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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390682">Working hard (or hardly working)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffegon/pseuds/Giraffegon'>Giraffegon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Original Universe, Snuggling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:53:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffegon/pseuds/Giraffegon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hard, long day of doing absolutely nothing, Edmund decides to relax.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edmund/Marcus Westwood, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Working hard (or hardly working)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A little fluffy ficlet i made to deal with things :) hope you enjoy! not my best but it was sweet to write</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a relentlessly dull day, which was saying something, all things considered. Running a city-wide religion had at first seemed like a job that might keep a man occupied for the rest of his life, and in the beginning, it certainly had. But delegating roles, setting up second-in-commands for his second-in-commands, assigning work... it piled up. Eventually, every issue in the damn city was already being covered by at least six people by the time Edmund could even address it, nevermind fix it. As he set resources to help, he was given a statement of completion by some irrelevant worker at the bottom of the food chain. </p><p>It was boring. Painfully so.</p><p>He wasn’t asking for a life of constant activity-- he couldn’t take it, not anymore, not with his age nor his ‘condition’-- but he didn’t want to sit idle, either. It was a delicate balance, and not something he was maintaining, according to his restless legs and roaming eyes. He had decided, containing a bit of a strop, that he would be better off going to bed. A stark contrast from his younger years, he thought, wistful sigh on his lips. Staying up until the sun awoke from her dreams each night, working feverishly on some new research of other such business. Now, he was in his pyjamas at eight o’clock, laying on a plush mattress with his glasses half-way down his nose. The book in his hands was mind-numbing at best, yet he’d already cleared his way through his collection in a matter of weeks. Some drivel on the ‘divine origins’-- what a farce, he thought bitterly-- of the monarchy; more of a hate-read than anything, though its usefulness was clear. Monitoring the people’s reactions, dismantling monarchist groups... he supposed it might have a use. Not that he would be the one solving those issues, of course. The thought irritated him suddenly, and he set the book down on his polished end-table with a deep frown. Nose wrinkling, he eased himself up to his feet, padding across the dark-wooden flooring to his target. The phone, naturally-- the technology was awfully new, but that didn’t stop the Congregation spending an inordinate amount of funds to place one in the most important rooms of each cathedral, carefully monitoring the lines of all but two.</p><p>Edmund’s room, naturally.</p><p>And the top floor of the Barracks.</p><p>It seemed, at first glance, like an odd choice. Why the barrack’s highest level would be left untapped when perhaps the men residing within would be the most dangerous of all in case of a rebellion, having the hearts of their troops. But Edmund had insisted. Nobody likes to tell the Archpriest no. And so, it was left untouched. As Edmund turned the phone’s odd dial, something he thought he’d never get used to, he thanked his past self for such skilled and intelligent foresight. Flushing slightly, he stood by the phone as it rang on the otherwise, shifting slightly in place, making the floorboards release a half-hearted squeak. Edmund was not the sort of man who blushed. He’d seen too much, done too much to even play at being coy. Even still, there was something about the vulnerability of what he was doing-- using a private line to ask Marcus to drop what he was doing and dote on him was of a more dubiously morality than Edmund normally skirted, and he knew it. As the drone continued, Edmund clutched the receiver in a vice grip. Knawing terribly on his unprotected thumb, he was half-ready to set down the receiver in bitter defeat-- until finally, finally, the last tone sounded.</p><p>“Edmund.” The gravelly voice carried well through the line, and Edmund couldn’t help but let out a satisfied sigh at the familiar sound. With a smug simper, he tapped the receiver gently.</p><p>“Marcus.”</p><p>“I trust this was a necessary call, eh?” The teasing tone of the man’s voice was clear as he spoke. Huffing petulantly, Edmund rolled his eyes, though well aware Marcus couldn’t see.</p><p>“It was completely necessary, I’ll have you know, and it’s highly sensitive information. This mustn’t leak out to anyone, Marcus. I hope you understand this life and death situation.” He purred, leaning slightly on the phone’s table. Marcus shifted where he sat-- Edmund could hear it, the shifting of the thick leather coat-- and hummed as if to encourage Edmund’s words.  “I’ll cut straight to the point. I need you, Marcus. I need you to come to my room, right now.” Biting his lip, the words were more difficult to get out tan he’d originally planned. “I miss you. I’ve been having trouble going to sleep without you, and I...”</p><p>His partner’s silence was deafening for a moment. “Edmund.” He cleared his throat. “Sit tight.” His smile was nearly audible over the phone, excitement clear in his voice at the prospect of time with his lover. “I’ll be right over, alright? I’ll bring that fantasy novel you love. You know the one.”</p><p>The phone was unceremoniously hung-up, after that. </p><p>Near-giddy with anticipation, Edmund grinned and set down his phone. Clapping a few times-- all to himself, of course-- he jumped onto his bed playfully. Tucking his robe around himself, he stared owlishly at the door.</p><p>He wasn’t left alone for long. Soon, Marcus had pushed upon the great dark doors, scruffy face poking into the grand room. As soon as he set eyes upon the Archpriest, his eyes wrinkled with delight. Edmund smiled widely, laying down across the sheets and gesturing with open arms toward the Paladin-- who quickly took the invitation. Using his height as an advantage, Edmund gasped in a fit of amusement as he was swept into Marcus’ burly arms, held tightly as he was tucked underneath the sheets. Setting his head on Marcus’ chest, he nuzzled into him with gusto. Setting a hand on Edmund’s arm, Marcus rubbed gentle yet insistent circles into the exposed skin. He tilted the tawny-haired head up, pressing a soft kiss to Edmund’s awaiting lips. </p><p>Edmund grunted as the top of his head was tapped, pulling away from Marcus’ stubbled face with already lidded eyes. His weapon of choice; the very same novel Edmund had read more than a thousand times and still hadn’t gotten sick of. Eyes brightening, he snatched it eagerly before falling back down onto the softer regions of Marcus’ chest. Flipping open careworn pages, he flipped his head up to glance toward Marcus himself. Marcus was staring back down at him, cropped hair falling oh-so-slightly down as he craned his neck toward Edmund, arms wrapped tightly around him.</p><p>“I take it you’re glad I called you,” Edmund whispered. “Seemed like you needed it.”</p><p>“I think you needed it more”</p><p>Edmund scoffed, light brow raised. “I think not! Obviously, I’m doing this for your benefit...” He yawned loudly, face twisted into a smile. They both knew it was a lie, but such happy ignorance suited them both.</p><p>Pushing himself up further towards his lover, only a few pages were skimmed before the warmth of the bed and Marcus’ embrace made him drowsy, his eyes fluttering shut every few seconds. It had been difficult to get to sleep, as of late. Plagued by nightmares-- and yet, in such a firm embrace, such thoughts were practically erased from his mind. With a hearty chuckle, Marcus ran his hands through the man’s hair.</p><p>“The Archpriest doth protest too much!” Edmund snorted decisively, cuddling up further into his lover’s arms. “It can’t hurt to show a little bit of weakness, can it? For me.” He hummed, pressing his lips against the blonde’s temples. Mumbling nonsense, there was only one sentence Edmund felt to say.</p><p>“I love you,” he cooed. “More than anything. Now, is that weak enough for you? Or shall I sing a sonnet of my passions?”</p><p>“Oh,” Marcus rumbled. “Quite weak enough. I hope you’ll allow me my moment.”</p><p>Drifting to sleep, Edmund could hardly keep his eyes open.</p><p>“I love you, Edmund.” </p><p>The soft smile that spread across his lips was the last expression on his face as he drifted off.</p>
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